#yeah that will do. simple and effective hell yeah

[explodingchantry]

OK I found the source and, genuinely, what the fuck?

Varric is apparently an important character within veilguard but we don't get to express whether the inquisitor left his best friend to die in the fade?

The wardens are a big part of veilguard but we don't get to express what the inquisitor did with the southern wardens?

MORRIGAN is apparently an important character in veilguard and we don't get to express whether 1. We had her have Kieran and 2. If she drank from the well or not?? You know this important decision that was meant to impact the rest of the drinker's life, and was meant even more vital when inquisition revealed Flemerh was Mythal? I literally just replayed that quest and they genuinely make a huge point out of this decision being life altering. But it's not, is it, if both characters who could've drank show up in the next game but the effects of the well aren't present.

"northern thedas is a blank slate" is such a weird take. What happens in ferelden and orlais (and the free marchés if we bring da2 into it too) absolutely matters to the rest of thedas. These things ricochet upwards. You literally choose who leads orlais, one of (if not The) most powerful and influencial nations in all of thedas. You get to choose the fucking DIVINE. Yeah sure that might not matter in Tevinter, but it matters everywhere else?? The rest of northern thedas follows the chantry even if they might not be as horny for it as the south????

And that's only speaking of inquisition choices. I already made a post somewhere about how very few of the decision input on the keep mattered in dai and how filling the keep often felt pretty pointless because of that. But at least the gender of the hof and who they romanced came up, and the leader of ferelden came up however briefly and flawed.

Honestly dragon age was never actually good at bringing up and taking into account old choices. Da2 had a good excuse for it (set in a completely different country whilst the choices the hof made were central to ferelden only, and hawke being just Some Guy who wouldn't get involved in a lot of influencial stuff the hof had a hand in. And even THEN there's plenty of background dialogue about ferelden that does mention it.) Dai does have a lot of nods to a few things; the ruler of ferelden shows up in in hushed whispers, or if you kept Alistair/recruited loghain they show up for here lies the abyss and might even have a discussion with Morrigan with whom they had a CHILD with. If hof romanced leliana she mentions them quite a bit. Morrigan can show up with the full ass child she can have in Dao and that's probably one of the biggest differences the choices you made make. Some other decisions from Dao are referenced; like who rules Orzammar. And as for da2 it's very true that a lot of the decisions made are much harder to reference due to being more interpersonal, so it does make sense to an extent that the decisions are referenced there through simple dialogue (though that dialogue is flawed as hell.) If it doesn't like some of your past choices it'll retcon it, like if you killed leliana in Dao. Or like, for example, just a random example, you got one of the Dao endings where Cullen goes mad, kills mages and runs away. Never mentioned again that one. Weird.

Bioware loves to give you big influencial choices to make you feel important only to turn around the next game and kind of shrug their shoulders as they do the bare minimum with them. And now, don't get me wrong - some of these choices are really hard to integrate. We basically can never go back to Orzammar because its king changes everything. It's too much to take into account and would change what quests and storylines the player experiences.

But then don't fucking write it that way to begin with lol. At least with Dao you can give the benefit of the doubt with things being meant to be part of a single story - but by da2 they knew dragon age was a franchise and inquisition was written and made with the knowledge there would be another game afterwards. They could actually plan things out and figure out if maybe a choice you could make would require too many resources to implement in the next game, and thus just not actually give you the choice in inquisition. Because the divine, for example, makes a HUGE difference. I fully get that it would be extremely difficult to take all three choices into account - reference them but make them not so integral that the story of the game can only happen if one of those was made.

But then don't make us fucking able to choose who the divine is. I'd rather not have as many influencial choices in a game, but have them referenced and have them matter, than... This.

Who you romance. Whether you disbanded the inquisition. And what you think of Solas. Nothing from Dao, nothing from da2, and only this from dai. That's a fucking joke. It's a joke. A spit in the face.

Many of the fans will have replayed the series in anticipation for veilguard, carefully crafted their choices to be their main world state. Especially with the nice little sales you've had during veilguard's promotional period. And now, only now, after they will have done all of that, you spit in their faces and say that none of what they did in the past games mattered. So why should I finish my inquisition replay? Why should I care?

Meanwhile, plenty of events from the books and comics will not only be referenced but be integral for the story. Fuck you for playing the main games, you're stupid for thinking they mattered. Obviously the static stories of our external media is more important. Totally respectful of the fanbase to do that.

[trustworthycinnamon]

I've been listening to tesla coil music on loop while drawing my idiot Ult!Hal and I reached the conclusion he'd fucking love danmaku games

[skeletalheartattack]

...am I just losing my mind or did yer icon become evil? I don't remember that BeAst behind Boe

yuuuump always been behind me

[peppermintquartz]

The first time Tommy opens his house to Evan, he doesn't know what he is getting.

At first Evan just follows him, making polite sounds of generic appreciation, until they get to the kitchen in the back of the bungalow. Tommy has leaned into the craftsman style, and there are industrial elements also - efficient is effective, in Tommy's opinion - and Evan just stands in the middle and stares, an awed smile on his face. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds and its rays fall right through the skylight and onto the island, a piece that Tommy built with a friend's help.

"Are those... Did you get the wood from a bowling alley?" Evan is delighted, rubbing his fingertips over the little triangular marks on the surface of the island. "This is so cool."

He explores the kitchen and notices the pantry. On the pantry door, he sees Tommy's meal plan and freezes.

"Tommy, you have a meal planning chart," Evan states unnecessarily.

Tommy sticks his hands into his pocket. "Yeah, a gym buddy taught me. I got used to it and it's really useful when I plan out my grocery shopping."

"It's color-coded."

"Yeah. The system is simple, too. Helps me see if I'm getting enough proteins, carbs --mmph!!"

Tommy's back hits the nearest wall as he is kissed to an inch of his life. Evan doesn't let up, licking into Tommy's mouth with delectable little moans and his hands are wandering under Tommy's shirt, his fingers skating over his waist and ribs. When a thick thigh insinuates itself between Tommy's legs, Tommy pushes lightly on Evan's shoulders. "Okay, that was. Wow. You like the meal plan?"

"It's color-coded," Evan murmurs, his pupils blown dark with longing. "And you listed the exact cuts of meat, and how to cook them."

Tommy is not expecting his boyfriend to be turned on by efficiency and organization, but he sure as hell isn't about to stop Evan from rewarding Tommy for it. Putting his arms over Evan's shoulders, Tommy smiles and says, "Wait till you see my pantry." He lowers his voice. "It's sorted by category and then alphabetical order."

Evan inhales sharply. "Do you mind if I take off your pants right now?"

[starglitterz]

♡ SPICY. // PART ONE

❝ ‘cause i’m too spicy for your heart, ring the fire alarm! ❞ // attractive things the genshin men do

✧ feat ; al-haitham, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, heizou, kaeya, thoma, wriothesley, xiao x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; fluff, suggestive, implied kamisato!reader for thoma’s, reader is shorter than ayato for his part, modern au for wriothesley, traveller!reader for xiao’s

✧ a/n ; yeah yeah i’m a slut we all know that already let’s move on 🙄 /lh i was brainrotting sm LOL i hope u guys enjoy! 

part one︱info︱part two

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3

✦ “are you listening?” AL-HAITHAM’s voice cuts through your messy thoughts and you scramble for your pen to scribble some nonsense and at least pretend you were concentrating. your eyes are glued to the paper in front of you, too embarrassed to meet his gaze after what you were daydreaming about him. without warning, he uses his index finger to tilt your chin up to face him with a curt “pay attention.” his green irises bore into yours, scanning them as if to discover why you haven’t been focusing and the intensity of his gaze makes heat rise to your cheeks. his actions clearly result in the opposite of the desired effect though, because it’s made you ten million times more distracted, too busy thinking about your tutor doing things that certainly aren’t academic.  

✦ there’s definitely something in the way that AYATO leans down to hear you better. it’s a simple gesture, but when he bends down to listen to what you’re saying, it proves that he’s putting in the effort to continue the conversation and is genuinely interested in your chatter. or even if it’s something like leaning against the door frame, a reminder of how idiotically tall he is, it always gets your heart beating quicker and you lose your train of thought. but maybe he isn’t as clueless as you think he is, because the smirk playing about his lips as he admires your flustered expression while you stumble over your words definitely says otherwise. 

✦ sometimes when you see CHILDE’s idiotic smirk, it takes everything in you not to punch it off his face. however, when he’s in the heat of battle, the way his lips curl just so as he lifts an eyebrow at his opponent daringly, almost as if he’s asking them “you really think you can defeat me?” you’d rather punch him with your lips. the sheer confidence he exudes as he fights, the casual manner with which he switches his bow to his hydro polearm, the easy grin dancing about his mouth – it’s incredibly attractive. 

✦ it shouldn’t be a big deal, but whenever CYNO wraps his arms around your waist from behind to pull you into his embrace, you swear your heartbeat accelerates to the speed of light. he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder too, and if he’s feeling mischievous (which is practically all the time), he’ll tilt his head ever so slightly so he’s at the perfect angle to press fleeting kisses against your neck. you can almost feel his smile against your skin as you shiver from the sensation of his warm lips. 

✦ DILUC is not one for grand public displays of affection. you don’t mind, you’re fine with it, but one day another patron at the angel’s share keeps flirting with you, and suddenly you feel the winery owner beside you, one arm snaking around your waist almost possessively. “it’s nice to meet you,” he murmurs to the other man in a tone icy enough to freeze over hell. his fingers tap a steady rhythm against your hips and you feel like his touch is branding you through the layers of fabric. it evidently gets the message across because the poor customer leaves immediately with his tail between his legs, and all DILUC does is squeeze your waist lightly and press a soft kiss on your forehead as a hint of a smug smile curves his lips. 

✦ being a genius detective and also just being really annoying are certainly not mutually exclusive, as HEIZOU continues to prove every single day. case in point; the way he’s proudly walking around the tenryou commission, the array of wine-coloured bruises you left on his neck last night blatantly out for display. the other inazumans who notice look scandalized, while kujou sara seems dangerously close to bursting a blood vessel. “heizou!” you hiss, pulling him into a secluded corner to scold him, “why didn’t you wear a scarf or something?!” the detective merely gives you his trademark grin and winks playfully, “why should i? it’s a mark of your love, i wouldn’t want to hide it~”

✦ one thing’s for certain whenever you talk to KAEYA – he will give you his undivided attention. you love that about him, but sometimes his piercing gaze is almost distracting, the varied shades of sparkling blue a stark contrast to the matte black leather of his eyepatch and often making you veer wildly off-track to whatever you’re telling him about. it only worsens when you catch his stare sometimes drifting to your lips, but he’ll shake his head as if jolting himself out of a reverie before he continues looking at you and nodding like he’s been paying attention this entire time. and if you call him out on it, he’ll just raise both hands in surrender, “sorry, babe, i can’t help it – you just look so kissable when you’re talking!”

✦ THOMA is an absolute softie, always making your favourite foods and spoiling you as the housekeeper of the kamisato clan. it makes sense that you’ve never realised just how strong he actually is. but then you catch a glimpse of him one evening after a long day’s work, and as he lifts up the edge of his shirt to wipe the glistening sweat off his face you think you could collapse. the gesture exposes his toned abdomen, muscles clenching as he lets out a soft groan, and the only coherent thought running through your mind is; why has he been hiding this the entire time?! maybe it’s time for you to switch the kamisato housekeeper uniform to a crop top… 

✦ WRIOTHESLEY is a gentleman who’ll never let you take a cab home alone, especially not after a long night out in the city. but as he’s pulling up to your house, your thoughts are definitely nowhere near appreciating how sweet he is, rather you’re admiring how close his muscled arms are to your face while his hand is on the back of your seat as he turns to check the rear mirror. from the passenger seat, you get the perfect view of his side profile, his chiseled features, the barely visible trace of stubble on his chin, his stormy gray eyes… he’s like the dark male lead of every romance manhwa. and when he catches you looking, he gives you a smile that’s almost teasing, “like what you see, beautiful?” 

✦ even though XIAO is the one who’s supposed to teleport to you whenever you call his name, you can’t help but find yourself gravitating towards him whenever he says yours. it must be how he utters it, softly, lovingly, almost reverent in his gentleness as if you’ll shatter before his eyes if he whispers it even a decibel louder. and sure, he calls you by several petnames (butterfly, dove), but the way your name slips past his lips like a prized jewel will always be your favourite. sometimes it feels as if your name is going to be worn out from how often people use it, begging you to help them with miscellaneous tasks and pushing you to exhaustion. but during those late nights at wangshu inn as you rest in his embrace, he whispers your name as if it’s a secret for just the two of you and the stars and you can’t help but think how lucky you must have been to be born with such a pretty name, created for your adeptus lover to murmur with so much affection lacing his tone. 

GRR i lowk love this... hope yall do too! don't forget to check out part 2 when it's published as well <3

© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen. 

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control. 

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

 “Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster. 

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[pyxxiestyxx]

Class-C

The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance.  If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.

In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand.  She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening.  You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.

"So this is your bet?  Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"

Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes.  This is different.  A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain.  No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."

The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret.   She thought you couldn't do it.  You thought she was full of shit.  You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course.  Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down.  You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk.  "Easy."

Her smile only widened.  "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock.  She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed.  "No using the time you have left for rallying cries.  Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in.  When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."

You scoffed, leaning back in my chair.  "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in?  Wow, you must really be confident."

"Oh, it begins nearly immediately.  Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."

You looked at her, doubtful.  "Yeah?  Then how come I don't feel any different?"

"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already.  Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.

"Shit, I...sorry.  Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it.  You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt.  "Um.  Sorry."

"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"

"NO!" Your face was properly red now.  Oh *stars*, you had!  You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now?  Would she not want to hang out with you?  You hoped not.  You really enjoyed her compa....wait....

Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little.  It was just the drug.  You were in control.  The drugs were doing this.  But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle.  or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out.  Gosh, she's so kind...

"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say.  You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all.  So you could win the bet!

...

The bet?

"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before.  Worried, you turned to look at her.

"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this.  Well, jokes on her!  You're still in control.

"Nothing!  I don't want anything to happen.  No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication.  Got it?"

She nodded, sagely.  "Of course.  In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"

You sputtered in shock.  "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."

"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt.  "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"

"I-I...you... fucking...."  You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg.  She was trying to goad you.  She wanted you to win now.  She had entirely turned the rules on their head. 

But she also assumed you would take her bait.  You shook your head, biting your lip.  "I...fine.  I admit it."

"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table.  She was absolutely getting off on this.  You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.

"I love you?"

"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee.  "Say it louder, for one.  And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie.  This is a confession, after all~"

You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers.  Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words.  "I l-love you...I need you..."

"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly.  You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"

"Dear, it's just a game.  You can use the one you want to use."

"I love you, Mommy."

"And?"

"A-and I want...I need to be your floret.  I need it, please stars I need it.  I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.

"Go~od job, petal.  You did it."  She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you.  "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"

You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant.  You weren't going to get anything now.  You had just said so.  Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob.  "I...it's..."

She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest.  "Shhhh...petal, it's alright.  You didn't lose, silly."

"I...w-what?"

She smiled at you.  "How would love for another ever be seen as losing?  You won, silly."

You won. That made sense to you now.  Especially when She said it.  You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away.  "I won..."

"You won!  And guess what that means, dear?"

"I'm...I'm a..."

"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit.  A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.

"You tricked me, Mommy!"

"Did I?  Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you.  Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it?  Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth.  You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.

"I...noooooooooo!!!  I didn't...I mean....maybe?"

"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it.  "Now, let's get you home.  We have a contract to sign~"

[springtyme]

Steve request! Reader dragging dr*gged up S3 Steve and Robin around the mall with Dustin and Erica and every chance he gets to flirt with r he takes (you can totally ignore this if you want!)

𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ♡

Thank you for the request, hun! I loved this idea, and it was so much fun to write <3

Steve Harrington x f!reader || Masterlist || Steve playlist

summary: Throughout your entire friendship with Steve, you've always had terrible timing. But having him confess to you while drugged out of his mind and running from Russian spies might take the cake.

word count: 3.5k

warning/tags: Idiots in love. Childhood best friends. Mention of Steve and Robin being drugged, and Steve's bruises and dried blood. This turned out a lot different and a lot longer than I had first planned, but I do fear I suffer from too much gene. I haven't proofread this, so there might be a few mistakes.

The hum of the fluorescent lights buzz overhead as you try to navigate through the nearly-deserted mall, your heart pounding for reasons beyond the simple adrenaline of running for your life. Your grip on Steve’s arm is firm, trying your best to keep him steady while keeping an eye on Dustin and Erica who are leading Robin after you. 

“C’mon, Steve,” you huff as Steve stumbles over his own feed. He is leaning against you, his usually bright eyes glazed over but still sparkling with mischief. He is truly an absurd sight right now in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, a goofy grin on his heavily bruised face. He has patches of dried blood at the corner of his mouth and on his chin, and the area around his right eye is purple and swollen. Having him drugged out of his mind is far from ideal right now, and you hate not knowing what they injected him with, but you can’t help but feel a little thankful that whatever it is seems t o take his pain. “We have to keep moving.” 

Steve lets out a soft chuckle, the sound slightly slurred, yet still unmistakably sweet to your ears. “You’re really taking charge here, huh? Who knew you could be so bossy?” he teases, leaning a little too heavily against you, making you stumble a little to the side. You roll your eyes at his playfulness, trying to focus on the task at hand which Steve seemingly doesn’t have a single concern over right now.

“Yeah, yeah, bossy but effective,” you shoot back, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the kids and Robin are still behind you, before giving Steve a little push to keep him moving.

He just giggles, flashing you that charming smile that always makes your heart skip a beat—even now, with the haze of whatever the Russians had pumped him full of filtering his brain. “Very effective,” he replies, his voice a drunken whisper as he leans closer, as if sharing a delightful secret. 

“What the hell did they give you two?” you mutter as you stumble slightly to the side from Steve’s weight before catching yourself.   

“I don’t know,” he says, stretching his arms out dramatically, nearly losing his balance again. “But I like it!” he declares, throwing his head back and laughing. 

“I like it too!” Robin chimes in from behind, her voice slightly loopy and higher than usual as she, too, joins in on Steve’s laughing fit. You try to shush them, but your warning only fuels their giggles.

The sound of their laughter echoes through the, luckily nearly-empty, corridor of the mall you’re currently navigating. You huff in frustration, trying to maintain your composure amid the surreality of the moment, glancing around to ensure no one is noticing. “Guys, shh! We don’t want to attract any attention.” 

When Steve leans in again, his breath is warm against your ear, making it increasingly difficult to focus. “I think you’re the one attracting all the attention,” he whispers, a teasing smirk on his lips as he fixes you with a gaze that manages to be both hazy yet intense. The closeness of his body to yours sends a jolt of warmth pulsing through you, even amid the chaos surrounding your group.

 “Can you not flirt right now, Steve? We’re literally dodging a Russian military operation!” Dustin exclaims in exasperation from a few paces behind, his frustration evident as he pulls Robin along, who’s still hanging on to some bizarre delight in the situation. 

“Stop being jealous, Henderson,” Steve shoots back playfully as he sways slightly, and you have to quickly adjust to keep him from toppling over. “Just because your so-called girlfriend is all the way in Utah.” He points dramatically back at Dustin, making Robin break out in laughter again. 

“Focus, guys!” you insist, your voice low but firm. “Just follow me and try to stay quiet, okay?” You force yourself to focus on the path ahead, but every other second you glance to the side at Steve. He winks at you this time, the move so exaggerated that it comes off as almost comical, a poorly executed attempt at charm. 

“Oh, I’ll always follow you, to the end of the world,” he slurs.

“If you say so,” you murmur, which makes Steve knit his eyebrows, doing his best to appear thoughtful, though it only makes him appear more ridiculous. 

“Well, can you blame me? You’re the best,” he declares, sincerity mixed with the haze of his drugged state. “And, not to mention, like… the coolest girl in Hawkins.”

“Shut up, Steve,” you huff, trying to ignore how flustered his compliment makes you feel. 

“Are you gonna make me?” he challenges, raising an eyebrow before stumbling again and you have to swiftly tuck him back under your arm to keep him upright. You barely manage to catch him this time, your heart racing as he leans into you completely, resting his head against your shoulder.

“Just stay on your feet, okay?” you say, your voice carrying a mix of annoyance and affection. You truly can’t believe what’s happening right now.

You have been in love with Steve for what feels like a lifetime, having to watch him date and break up with countless girls, without him ever once seeming to realize the way you felt about him. But now, in a moment where he’s utterly out of it, after being drugged by Russian spies and running for your lives, he flirts with you. It feels like a cruel joke.  

“Okay, okay, I will stay on my feet,” Steve promises, straightening up (or at least attempting to) and puffing out his chest in an attempted display of bravado. It’s a strangely endearing sight, one that almost makes you forget, for a split second, the insane situation you’re fleeing.

The four of you keep moving, dodging through the mall until you finally spot a small storage room with a heavy door slightly ajar and you make a quick decision. The Russians took Steve’s car keys and Steve and Robin are still way too out of it, you need a break from running around so you can figure out what to do.   

“Erica, Dustin, we’re going in here,” you instruct, pulling the door open wider and pushing Steve inside before ushering Robin in with a gentle nudge, making sure Dustin and Erica follow closely behind before joining them, shutting the door behind you, the lock clicking into place.

Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of dust and industrial cleaner, and the dim light offers a brief reprieve from the chaos outside. Steve and Robin slumps against the wall, chuckling, seemingly entertained by the situation.

“Are you two okay?” you ask, turning towards Dustin and Erica.

“Yeah, we are fine, but those two?” Erica says, hands on her hips as she looks over at Steve and Robin who are giggling to each other with the kind of carefree joy that can only really come from being blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding them.

“Are you two okay?” you ask, more pointedly this time, directing your concern towards Steve and Robin. 

They briefly pause their laughter, turning their silly, unfocused gazes to you, their expressions shifting from amusement to a classic ‘who, us?’ look.

“More than okay. I feel amazing!” Robin announces with a giggle, her voice a bit too loud for the cramped space, her laughter filling the confined space. She barely seems aware of the tension in the air, her cheeks flushed from the adrenaline and whatever the Russians had spiked her with. You, on the other hand, take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and the whirlwind of emotions inside you. 

“Well, there’s your answer, they are okay too,” you say, trying to keep your composure. They are clearly not okay, but there is not much you can do about it right now, most likely the drug will start to wear off sooner or later and all you can do is wait for that. In the meantime you have to figure out what to do. 

“Dustin help me move this crate,” you direct, pointing to a heavy storage crate in the corner. “Erica make sure those two stay put and somewhat quiet,” you say, trying to sound authoritative  . 

After a little bit of struggle you and Dustin get the crate and get the door barricaded before he joins Erica and the others and you take an inventory of the room—cleaning supplies, an old mop, and shelves lined with boxes. Nothing particularly useful to escape a Russian army, but at least it’s quiet.

You have just peaked your head out of a box, in which you finally had found something useful, as Steve, who apparently had maneuvered over to you, tries to lean on a shelf, but ends up leaning too heavily and almost toppling down. You rush forward to catch him before he hits the ground, your heart racing as you feel the warmth of his body against yours. 

“Whoa, careful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The way he grins at you is both charming and infuriating, a painful reminder of why your heart races despite the absurdity of your current situation. “I thought I told you to stay put,” you scold gently, trying to mask the concern lacing your voice with a little frustration. 

“I missed you,” he replies, resting his head against the shelf beside you, the admission slipping out with an exaggerated, almost theatrical sweetness. 

“I was only a few feet away, Steve,” you remind him. 

“I know, but… you were still too far away,” he responds, tilting his head to meet your eyes, his gaze is a little more lucid, he is still out of it, but there is an earnestness that transcends any drug haze. “And I told you I’d follow you to the end of the world, remember.” There’s honesty in his tone that tugs at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you’re taken aback by his words.

“That’s sweet, Steve,” you say, giving him a little smile, which he reciprocates tenfold, clearly pleased to have garnered a smile from you. “Now look what I found,” you say, pulling out the first aid kit you had found from the box you were rummaging through before.  

“Uuuh,” he drawls as he leans closer, inspecting the kit with an hindering interest.

“Wanna come here and sit with me?” you ask, gesturing over to the crate by the door. 

“Always,” he replies, grinning as he attempts to maneuver himself but ends up colliding with the shelf instead. You can’t help but laugh a little as you reach out to steady him again, your hands brushing against his sides as you guide him over to the crest and help him sit down.

“I’m gonna clean you up a little, is that okay?” you ask softly, clicking open the first aid kit, trying your best to try ignoring the chaos that lingers just outside the door.

“That would be nice... You’re so nice,” he replies, before resting his head back against the wall, a goofy smile plastered on his face as he looks up at you with such admiration that it feels like the world has shrunk down to just the two of you in that dimly lit storage room. You  feel that familiar rush of affection as you watch him. Drugged or not, he radiates that special warmth that brings a flutter to your heart. 

 “Okay, this might hurt a little, but try not to move, I promise to be gentle,” you say, pulling open an antiseptic wipe. You take a moment to steel yourself, your heart sinking as you study the bruises that mar his otherwise perfectly chiseled features. It must hurt, but he seems completely unfazed by it, lost in the bliss of his inebriated state. 

“Oh, you’re always gentle with me, even when you’re mean.” His voice is filled with a warm admiration. You can’t help but roll your eyes, a smile creeping onto your lips as you dab the antiseptic wipe against a cut on his cheek.

“When am I ever mean to you?” you ask him, focusing on wiping the blood from his chin while trying to ignore the way his gaze makes the air feel thick with unsaid emotions.

Steve chuckles softly, the sound warm and syrupy in the dim light of the storage room. “You’re always calling me an idiot, and you give me that look—” he pauses, his hazy expression suddenly serious, though it’s still marred by a goofy smile. 

You frown, momentarily caught off guard by his sudden shift in demeanor. “What look?” you ask, your brows knitting together in confusion. 

“That one! The one that says I’m a total dork who couldn’t find his own feet without you,” he replies, his tone teasing but somehow more sincere than usual. He tilts his head slightly, trying to penetrate the fog of the drug clouding his thoughts. “But, I know what you really mean. You just care. Besides, I like when you’re mean. It’s pretty hot…”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. He’s always known just how to get under your skin, but this is different—this feels more intimate, more real, especially given the current circumstances. “You might only think that because you’re high,” you counter, trying to play it cool despite the heat creeping up your neck and cheeks. 

He knits his brows, looking up at you like you just gave him the world’s meanest insult. “Nah, I mean it,” he insists, his eyes wide and sincere, though still glazed with that loopy energy.

“Maybe keep that thought for when you’re not under the influence of whatever crap those Russians gave you. I doubt you would say all this.” You carefully dab at his split lip, your fingers brushing against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Somehow, it all feels surreal—this moment shared in the darkness, just you and Steve.

“Doesn’t matter, really. Even if they hadn’t—” He pauses, searching your eyes, and for the first time, you can’t help but notice the flicker of something deeper in his gaze. “I would’ve said it anyway. You have always been the one, you know?”

Your breath catches in your throat—what does he mean by ‘the one?’ You blink, trying to find your voice. “Steve—”

“No, wait. Let me finish,” he interrupts, shifting closer, entirely oblivious to the way butterflies have taken flight in your stomach. “I don’t know if we are getting caught by Russian spies, so please listen,” he says earnestly, and in that drugged haze, it feels deeply sincere, stripped of pretense or playful banter.

“I know I’ve been a total idiot when it comes to, well… everything, but especially with you. I just… I was scared. Scared to ruin our friendship.” 

You hold your breath, caught up in the gaze of the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember. A part of you wants to stop him, to put your hands over his mouth and make him stop spilling his unfiltered, drug induced thoughts, but you feel like you’re frozen.

“Even when I was a total jerk in high school, even when I was wrapped up in all those other girls, I always wanted it to be you. You’re… special to me. You always have been. You always save me from myself, you know? And not just today... but like, all the time.” His voice lowers to a near whisper as if he is sharing a secret that only the two of you exist to hear.

Your heart races, a torrent of emotions coursing through you. The words are both a balm and a weight, wrapping around you tightly.

“Steve… I…” You struggle for the right words as the weight of their significance swings like a pendulum between you. You love him, have done for years, and hearing him voice sentiments that resonate so deeply makes your heart ache—in a good way, but still aching hard. “Why would you think you’d ruin our friendship?” you ask, your voice gentle but firm. You’d buried your feelings for so long, only to have them rise unfiltered at this moment. 

“I thought—” He sighs, running a hand through his messy, yet somehow still perfect, hair, an absent gesture still filled with that same childhood charm you had known since you were kids. “I thought that I’d never be able to look at you if you didn’t feel the same way.” He chuckles softly, but it’s tinged with an undercurrent of sadness. “But now, I think—I mean, right now it feels like that doesn’t really matter. I have an assumption that I might be a little bit out of it right now, but I’m not that out of it, like… I am still here, in front of you. And if I die today because those Russians catch us, I just… I need you to know that you’ve always been the one for me, ‘cause I don’t want to die, or end up in a gulag, without you knowing that.”   

His confession hangs in the air between you like a fragile thread—part of you fears that it may unravel at any moment. Your pulse quickens as you dare to let yourself bask in the warmth of what he is saying. A weight lifts from your shoulders, giving way to a sense of hope you hadn’t anticipated.

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, Steve. I promise.” You take his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think we will have to talk about this later though, when we aren’t fleeing for our lives. But thank you for telling me.” 

“Yeah… yeah, definitely later,” he agrees, a mix of urgency and longing mixing in the hazy look lining his features. 

You interlace your fingers, giving his hand another squeeze. If you’re actually making it out of this crazy situation, and when Steve isn’t drugged out of his mind and can confirm that he actually meant all that he just said, you’re gonna kiss him silly. But for now, the moment hangs in the air like a delicate suspension bridge, strung tightly between adrenaline and longing, with the threat of the outside world looming just beyond the door.

“Uhm, are you two good?” Erica interrupts, her voice cutting through the thick tension in the air. You whip your head around to find her standing with her arms crossed, raised eyebrow, looking way too sassy for a ten year old. Robin is propped against the far wall, watching with wide eyes and a goofy grin plastered on her face.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you respond quickly, feeling a hot flush rush to your cheeks as you release Steve’s hand, the warmth of his skin lingering even as you separate.

Steve shifts, nudging you playfully with his shoulder as he leans back against the wall. “Just bonding over our collective trauma, you know?” he says, his tone light but his eyes still holding that depth, the seriousness lingering just beneath the surface.

“Right, because that’s totally normal,” Dustin mutters sarcastically, eyeing the two of you with a knowing look. “Just keep it PG. Kissing isn’t going to save us from the Russians.” 

“We weren’t kissing,” you exclaim immediately, your heart racing as you avoid making eye contact with Steve, who wears a grin that communicates far too much mischief for your sanity.

“Oh, please,” Erica scoffs, rolling her eyes. “We all saw you two get all mushy. If we weren’t in the middle of a hostage situation, I might actually find it cute.” Robin giggles beside her, clearly entertained by the unfolding drama.

“Shut up, guys,” you mutter, suddenly very much aware of the heat flooding your veins. You can feel Steve’s gaze on you, and even in his loopy state, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. The last thing you need is the audience right now, especially when it involves Dustin and a ten-year-old like Erica, who take far too much joy in teasing you about this kind of stuff.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Robin slurs out with a giggle, leaning her head against the wall with a dreamy smile. “At least we know you’re safe together. Just don’t let those spy guys catch you making out in here. That would be truly embarrassing.”

“Thanks, Robin,” you reply dryly, your cheeks still flushed with heat. The absurdity of being stuck in a storage room, surrounded by your friends while hiding from Russian agents, yet feeling like the most pivotal moment of your life is unfolding, is almost laughable.

“Can we please focus on survival rather than on whatever is going on right now?” Dustin groans, exasperated. 

“We most certainly can,” you reply, helping Steve, who keeps looking at you like you hung the moon, up from the crate and onto his feet again, but you keep your fingers interlocked as you help him over to the others again.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ♡

[commodorez]

A little bit of soldering later, and the new Cactus front panel is coming together nicely.

Did a few power-on smoke test, then installed the IC's.

After that, the only thing left to do was plug it into the Cactus SBC and see if it works.

Damn, that's 【 æｓｔｈｅｔｉｃ】（く内ラ） as fuck.

After I figured out that my bench supply was causing brown-outs, I swapped it for a simple wall wart, and magically things started working right.

So far, I've identified a few faults that need fixing, but the bulk of things are working as intended. Hell yeah. Only took me 5 years to get around to it...

One feature that has never worked right on the hand-wired prototype now works: Memory Protect. It effectively prevents both the CPU and user from writing to RAM while the Protect light is illuminated, assuming that the RAM in question has the appropriate circuitry installed. It's a feature I stole from ...that was inspired by the OSI-300.

Anyway, I'm hype as fuck right now.

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, etc.

part 1

wc: 2410

a/n: ppl rlly liked my first gyu x idol!reader fic so i decided to make a pt. 2! im working on a long fic for idol!gyu x idol!reader rn (its a diff universe from this one tho hehe) which should be out this month <3

masterlist

it's been a bit hard.

dating an idol as an idol would really seem like the ideal situation, except when it wasn't.

yeah, you had been absolutely ecstatic upon finding out mingyu had been carrying a torch for you for years. you had felt the same, only ever entertaining your other friends' flirting out of mere desperation for the man to finally notice you. after he suddenly blew up, declaring his love for you, you thought it'd just be smooth sailing from here, except you hadn't really thought much past that.

maybe you were being unreasonable. i mean, you had never dated a fellow idol before! maybe it was all in your head. or maybe you just weren't too used to the dynamic just yet. you weren't too sure. but you had no idea how much longer you could take watching mingyu flirt his way through life anymore.

fans, staff, other idols, male or female, you name it. mingyu simply had an overly flirtatious demeanor towards absolutely everyone. you, personally, always kept a very clear line in fan service, or any other type of flirtatious scenarios (sans your previous attempts to make mingyu jealous). mingyu did not afford you the same courtesy, consistently following requests to call fans his girlfriends and even going as far as initiating the flirting in both fancalls and physical fan meetings. okay, maybe this was something you could put up with. these interactions were very short lived, so they never went too out of hand, but these were not his only offenses.

you looked past the flirting with idols, chalking it up to being played up for the cameras for entertainment purposes. you looked away whenever it went far enough to have fans speculating online. you knew idols were professionals at delivering fan service, always wanting to give people something to talk about. hell, you did it too! this was a bit annoying to watch, but you trusted your boyfriend and your idol colleagues, so you let it slide. it was other things that were harder to look past.

was there any need for him to flirt up a storm among all the female staff members? he was behind the scenes, for fucks sake! there were no cameras nor any benefit from entertaining their giggles and subtle touches of his muscles as they pretended to be interested in what he was saying. you knew your boyfriend probably didn't realize that he was flirting, having simply grown too used to doing it that it was second nature to him by now, but it was still frustrating! specially when no one knew that mingyu was taken. as far as any of his staff members knew, mingyu was still just your best friend, and any sighting of the two of you together (always accompanied by another member of the 97s or a fellow group mate of his to avoid suspicion) was always assumed to be strictly platonic. even now, as you walked into his dressing room, only to find his stylist - and a few of the members' stylists - flocking around him as he told some stupid joke that probably wasn't even funny.

it was sickening, really. the way none of them saw how desperate they came off. how none of them realized that if they all flirted with him at once, it truly had no effect, as he wouldn't pay special attention to any of them in particular. you felt like a hater, but being real, you were starting to become one. you watched him for a good five minutes, wondering if he'd ever notice your presence from across the room. when he did, he immediately went over to you, cutting off any of the girls who had been flirting with him in favor of welcoming you. he was amicable, giving you a simple hug. but his eyes told a different story. anyone who knew mingyu knew those eyes were reserved for his loved ones. that made you calm down a bit, even hugging him back and daring a short peck on the cheek.

today was yet another shoot at the hybe building. you had the fortune of belonging to the same company as your boyfriend, which meant you could stop by whenever you wanted (as long as you kept a low profile). you'd often drag jungkook along with you for appearances' sake, but had decided to go solo today. gyu was clearly happy to see you, interrupting his stylists to take a quick breather with you, heading over to one of the empty changing rooms and finally indulging you with less platonic affection.

"baby! wasn't expecting you today?", despite that, he was clearly enthusiastic to see you, attached to you like a magnet now that he had locked the door behind you, making sure no one was around to see his affections towards you.

"yeah, clearly ..." you couldn't help but grumble, disconnecting yourself from him.

mingyu didnt give you much of a chance to create distance between you, immediately holding onto you again, this time by wrapping his arms around your waist, yours instinctively leaning against his hard chest.

"baby, what's wrong? what do you mean?", a pout made its way to his face. of course he was unsuspecting. the mingyu you knew was far too into you to ever seriously hit on someone else when he had you.

you responded with a sigh, "mingyu, do you have to flirt with every girl you meet?"

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"did you seriously not notice all those girls giggling at every word you said? they all want you, gyu. and you never put a stop to it."

"i dont .. the stylists? baby, ive never flirted with anyone in our staff, what? i work with them, of course i'm nice, but its always strictly platonic, you know that."

"the fact that you dont even realize it!", you separated yourself from him again, facing away and crossing your arms across your chest like a petulant child.

"baby ..."

"no, gyu. i'm not in the mood. i came to see you, but again, you're hitting on some other girl."

he wrapped his arms around you for the third time now, pulling your back to his chest as he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck. he was trying to break you down before you even managed to get fully angry at him

"princess, i'm sorry. i swear i didnt realize i was doing it. i- im just too friendly, i guess. why would i wanna flirt with anyone when i have you right here, hmm?", the kisses he began leaving along your neck did not help matters. he knew your weak points.

"forgive me, baby? please? don't want any of them. i'll tell them. i'll tell everyone, okay?"

"gyu ..." you whined, but still angled your neck for hin to keep kissing, leaning against his hold.

"yeah, pretty? i'll tell the whole world. it's just you for me," he paused, letting out a quiet chuckle as he shook his head, "it's kinda funny, though. now you know how i felt any time the boys would flirt with you."

"gyu! how is it my fault they liked me? and i only flirted with jungkook one time before we were ever together."

"and? still hated seeing you with anyone else. you're mine. you've always been."

he turned you around then, holding you close to him as he looked into your eyes. he smiled at you, kissing your nose before chuckling at your whines of annoyance at him. even when you wanted to be mad at him you couldnt. he'd always turn the situation around and swoon you somehow.

"let me show you, baby? show you that you're mine? maybe we can show those mean mean stylists too, huh?", okay, he was just teasing you now, lips drawn way too close to yours as he ran his hands up and down your back.

"gyu ..." you whined, making no effort to actually pull away.

"you'll let me. won't you, baby?" his eyes were glued to your lips, in a similar fashion to your own. you knew he could tell how badly you wanted him to close the gap, but you refused to make the first move. then he'd win. he'd be the voice of reason, which was something you just couldn't have.

"c'mon baby, just kiss me. you know you wanna. dont you wanna show them ill all yours? maybe leave your lipstick print all over my face for them to clean up? give me a hickey to- hmph!"

you had to shut him up eventually. he was driving you crazy. but he was also right. knowing you could make a statement about your relationship without actually having to explicitly say anything about it sounded too good to pass up, so you might've gone a little extra nastier with your kissing, running your lips all over his mouth, letting your tongue do all the work for you. mingyu had no complaints, even turning pliant under your touch.

huh.

he wanted you to be jealous, didnt he? he mightve not flirted on purpose, but now that he knew you were jealous he mustve felt some type of ... pride? at knowing how badly you wanted him to be yours and yours only. well. in that case, you were gonna give it to him.

you're not sure how it happened, but you ended up sitting on him, both your shirts thrown off as you ground on his lap as he sat back on the couch. the lower part of his face, along with part of his neck, were covered in lipstick stains, matching the smudged red along your own lips. you had left a few hickeys (okay, maybe five) on his chest area, not wanting to make the stylists work too difficult. the are with most damage, however, had been his hair, as you had messed it up in all directions possible through your incessant pulling. his hairstylists might have had complaints, but mingyu sure didnt have any. he kept moaning and sighing against your lips, hands guiding your hips from the moment you sat down on him.

"baby ... give me more ... please," you didnt blame him for growing frustrated at the lack of action. you yourself felt like you were at the precipice of pleasure, just needing to sit on him to find the way to your climax.

you helped him lower his pants enough to free his cock, playing with it for a bit before allowing it to slip under your skirt, panties shoved to the side in favor of creating a safe passage for his dick. you couldnt help the loud whine of pleasure you let out at the intrusion, feeling accompanied by mingyu and his own groan.

"gyu! shit ... feel so good- so big ..."

"i know, baby ... so pretty n so tight for me ... how could i ever want anyone else when i have my pretty girl so perfect for me. hole so wet and needy ..."

you cried at his words, speeding up as you angled yourself back to allow your clit to grace against him, making your eyes roll back even more.

"that's it, pretty. gonna cum for me? gonna let me fill you up, beautiful? that'll- fuck ... that'll show them who i belong to, huh? all yours, baby. just like y- you're all mine."

"yours! gyu, fuck! y- yours!"

"and im yours, baby. dont forget."

he kept poisoning at you from below, dragging your hips so you'd bounce up and down at a pace that had your toes curling. he always knew how to fuck you in ways that had your mind going completely blank, like right now. neither of you paid mind to the dressing room next door that was full of staff who could likely hear your muffles whines against each other's lips. you relished on it, even, knowing that once you walked back in the room they'd know who mingyu really belonged to.

"cum, baby. need you to cum so i c- shit ... so i can fill you up."

"almost there, gyu, just ... fuck! just like that! i'm cumming! gyu!"

"yeah, shit. gonna fill you up now, okay, baby? want you to keep it all in. show them im yours, yeah?", his hips never slowed down despite being you being on top. you were now just a rag doll he was using for his own pleasure. nothing had ever felt this good.

he filled you up soon after, with most of it spilling out due to the massive size of his load. he used his fingers to push it back in, then lifting them to your lips for you to lick clean, which you did with no complaint.

"oh, baby ... my nasty girl. how could i ever look at anyone else when i have my nasty baby so desperate for me? hmm? you're perfect for me, angel. dont care about any girl that flirts with me. you're all i want," he used his fingers to push down on your tongue as he said this, groaning at the way you sucked and sucked while looking at him with wide eyes.

"gyu ..." you whined as soon as he left your mouth alone.

"but im still sorry, angel. i didnt realize it bothered you. i get it. kinda wanna fight any of ur male fans when they get a little too friendly with you. that rookie at mnet last month? wanted to take him out back for the way he was looking at you when you performed."

"gyu!," you knew your boyfriend had been jealous of your friend group due to their former crushes on you, but he'd never told you that he felt the same way about literally any man you'd come across as an idol.

"what? im just saying, i get it! im also possessive and jealous. thats why we compliment each other. now come on. lets get you dressed, baby. gotta go have a very awkward conversation with my stylist so she can fix everything you just did to me."

"me?! look at me! im covered in cum!"

"hmm yeah. so pretty, angel. you better have it all in you by the time we get home, yeah?"

you huffed, but agreed, rolling your eyes at the innocent peck that landed on your cheek as he helped you look presentable.

you knew things would be awkward around his staff from now on, but it had been worth it.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi hi!!

Okay so I was thinking what about a task 141 + big man konig with a reader that likes to slap their ass cheekily or just plain ass grab them,any time is fair game,the boys are all in the barracks or in a meeting room? Better line up. 😂

Only if you're comfy ofc!!

Aha! This is perfect, lol. Hope this does what you were looking for justice😊 did a little twist as the reader doing it for the first time.

Warnings: sexual references, mild swearing

141 + König x GN Reader When You Slap/Grab Their Ass Playfully.

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

You'd seen videos circling the internet of people slapping their partners asses randomly to see their reactions, and you wanted to try it on Simon. While you were mildly terrified of what his reaction would be, you decided you still wanted to go with it.

The two of you were cleaning up after a home cooked meal, and you knew now was the time to strike. He was wearing a tight-fitting pair of sweats, and his ass looked just too good not to hit.

You sauntered up to him with a smile and gave his ass a loud "SMACK".

He set the dish he was holding down in the sink before turning head slowly to look at you, a dark look crossing his face.

You gulped at the look on his face before backing away. "I-I had to. I'm sorry."

"Had to?" He asked, and you nodded meekly in response.

"Or wanted to?" A smirk started to form on his lips.

".....both?" You mumbled sheepishly.

"That so?" The smirk lining his face was terrifying to you. He moved closer to you, effectively trapping you against the counter. "Why don't you head on upstairs, yeah? I'll up in a few. "

It seemed Simon, too, enjoyed smacking your ass, as evident from the large red handprint that was left on your ass cheek later that night.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish-

You and Johnny had a little bet going on who out of the two of you would be the first to crack without sex. Johnny had said he'd be able to last longer, and you desperately wanted to prove him wrong.

It started out simple enough, soft arm touches, thigh squeezes, "subtly" grinding yourself against his crotch. Nothing seemed to be cracking him, to your surprise.

Determined to win, you had one final card up your sleeve. Johnny was out working on his car, minding his own business. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find the sight incredibly attractive.

He was bent over, wearing a tight muscle T-shirt and tight workout shorts. You bit your lip in anticipation and walked over to carry out your plan.

"Hey baby. Looking good out here." You cooed as you walked up behind him.

As he peered around to look at you, you slid your hands down his waist until you reached his bum and squeezed the flesh there firmly before smoothing your hands up and down.

"I uhhhh, fucking hell Y/N." Johnny shook his head and moved away from your wandering hands. "Nope not falling for it. Nope."

You moved closer to him once more and gave his ass a harsh smack, before walking away.

Johnny set the tools he was working with down and came over to you, throwing you over his shoulder as he made his way to the bedroom.

Needless to say, he lost your bet, but not that you or he were complaining.

John Price-

John was giving a debrief to 141 in the conference room, and you couldn't help but let your eyes drift to his backside. He was walking back and forth while talking, giving you a perfect side view of his ass.

You turned to look at the boys and saw not a single one of them were paying attention, as they were probably all beyond exhausted.

Deciding to have some fun, you peered one more time to make sure you didn't have an audience and waited until John made his way past you before you made your move. He started to make his way past you, and when he came within arms reach, you slapped his ass.

Truly, you hadn't meant for the smack to be as loud as it was. You appeared to have misjudged the pressure, as everyone in the room, including Price, stopped and stared at you.

Rather than being embarrassed about it, you smiled widely and settled back into your seat as if nothing had happened, ignoring the looks of horror from the boys.

"Y/N, a word, outside if you will?" Price said sternly as he promptly forced you up and escorted you out of the room.

The minute the two of you made it outside, he pushed you up against the wall with a loose grip around your neck. "Thought that was funny did you?"

"I couldn't help myself, sir." You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing, as Price dragged his eyes up and down your figure.

"Couldn't help yourself? You won't be laughing later. I'll guarantee you of that."

Price kept to his word later that night. You surely weren't laughing as he took you from behind, slapping your ass repeatedly as you took exactly what he wanted to give you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

141 was getting ready to be sent out on a mission, and the 5 of you were getting on your gear. You could feel your nerves bubbling in your belly in anticipation of the mission.

Looking over, you saw Gaz putting on his gear, particularly the band around his thigh for his knife. You couldn't really say why you wanted to slap his ass, but unable to help yourself, you walked over to him, giving a resounding smack to his ass.

Shocked, Gaz turned to you with wide eyes before looking around to make sure nobody had seen what you just did. "Babe?"

You gave him a small smile before returning to your gear. Feeling Gaz walk up behind you, you looked to him. "What's up, love?"

"I think you know what's up. What was that for?" He asked.

"Just a good luck smack, that's all." You put both hands up in mock innocence.

"A good luck smack? That right?" A smirk formed on Gaz's face. "Well, I think I need a good luck smack of my own."

You turned to try and flee before Gaz wrapped his arms around you. "Nowhere to run, sweetheart."

The slap to your ass that ensued had everyone in the room turning to you and Gaz with wide eyes, much to your amusement.

König-

Poor König. He was minding his own business cleaning his weapons in the armory when you walked in. He was bent over staring in concentration at the gun he was in the middle of cleaning, giving you a perfect view of his ass.

You'd always wondered what his reaction would be if you were to go up and hit it, but you were always too nervous to try it. You were in a particularly playful mood, so you'd walked up to him with a polite smile before slapping his ass with all the force you could muster.

"Maus...have I done something wrong?" König asked timidly, standing up to his full height as he turned to you. His face was scrunched in confusion.

You bit your lip to contain your laughter at his reaction. "No? Baby, why would you think that."

"Oh. I um. Well. You spanked me, so I thought I must've done something to upset you." König's cheeks were red from embarrassment.

"Oh gosh, no Kö! You just.. looked really good, so I.... felt the need to slap your backside?" You now felt unbelievably awkward, not expecting this reaction.

"I see." König stood and contemplated your words for a few moments, before moving behind you. You felt a harsh smack on your ass, and heard a small giggle erupt from your boyfriend.

"Kö?"

"You look good too, so I smacked your ass." A tiny smile appeared on his lips.

From then on, König made it a point to slap your ass any time he deemed you looked good, so your ass was constantly imprinted with his large hand prints.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thanks for reading!!!😊🩷

[emsartwork]

Hey yall im not dead!

COSMIX!!! I've officially redesigned all the transformations in the Winx Club TV series hell yeah

Lore and Design notes below

So Cosmix is a rather defunct transformation in the modern era. It used to be used heavily in the age of space exploration but since teleportation and hyper speed ships became common place, the Magix dimension prefers to use those. Essentially, in order to set up a teleportation center, the caster/s need to have been to both the origin point and the target point. Witches and Mages were the primary people responsible for setting up the teleportation system, but in order to achieve the spells requirements, they would require help from a Cosmix fairy. The primary function of Cosmix is the ability to fly through space with out detrimental effects. Cosmix fairies can take 1, maybe 2, people with them while they fly in a shooting star esc trail function. Cosmix is not great for fighting unless the foe is darkness/light based. Defense is strong against cold, pressure, and friction, but not most other kinds of damage.

Cosmix is also theorized to be the Magix Dimension's version of the elementix. So like Sirenix is the transformation that grants access to the Infinite ocean, Cosmix is the one that would grant access to the Magix Dimension if fairies were in the other realms. Because humans already belong to the Magix Dimension, and the transformation isn't required to earn Nymphix, it isn't considered a true Elementix. Some fairies (mostly Solarians) do experience biological changes when using the transformation, seen here in Stella, but it's not super common. The hair takes on the magic color and drifts into nebulous star dust and galaxy clusters. Solarians are located closest to Lumenia, a tightly clustered star formation, and frequent attract Lumens due to Solaria's binary star system. They have formed fast friendships with the Lumens and many Solarians carry a Lumen's Blessing (it's similar to the elemental companions' bonds in the elementix) in their bloodline which contributes to the biological changes when using Cosmix.

I'm still hammering out how seaosn 8 works plot wise but I'll add it to my show changes masterlist eventually.

Design! The initial concept was "man i wanna draw some chunky ass boots" and i kinda ran with the cyber punk look from there. I was also adamant that Cosmix is a pants transformation, both out of practicality and spite because they made everyone so hyper feminine in season 8. I referenced the actual cosmix designs and their "space travel" oufits for the general shapes for these, but obviously there aren't a ton of similarities since I went in such a different direction haha. Also my first time drawing Aisha with twists! I almost gave her a fro cus it would mimic an astronaut's helmet (and lowkey a nod to Garnet from steven universe) but i like how the twists came out haha

Cosmix includes! Hair up and out of the way, a mesh base layer with light veins and stars, a body suit or shorts and top, a padded armor torso piece with some tubing ports, so many buckles and straps, a clear plastic portion(usually part of the torso peice, sleeves, or around the waist/hips), wrist/arm guards, and chunky chunky boots. The wings are also larger than most transformations (rivaling Butterflix/Faunix) and trail more of the fairy's magic color than usual. Simple geometric designs are standard.

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Eddie is so hardcore with the pet names and Steve doesn’t know how to handle it.

Becuase no one’s ever called him the sweet names and terms of endearment. Tbh was always his job.

It’s the morning after Steve’s stayed the night the first time, and he’s making breakfast in the tight trailer kitchen one morning and Eddie gently moves him forward with soft hands on his back, with a kiss to his shoulder as he scoots behind him to refill his coffee cup.

“ ‘Scuse me baby love” me mutters, still pretty much asleep and not really aware of the effect he’s having on Steve. (Steve is ready to scream). Steve blushes, a little light headed the rest of the time he’s cooking.

And then there’s that time Eddie offered to just change Steve’s oil for him because ‘it’s really not that hard why pay $20 when I can just do it’ and Steve insisted he’d feel too bad. So eddie countered “fine, then you can help me if that makes it better”.

And while Steve’s sitting on the porch of the trailer being absolutely fucking useless -because of corse Eddie wasn’t gonna actually let him help he wouldn’t know how to be good for shit with cars anyway- Eddie suddenly called out “hey sweetheart? Can you go grab me a glass of water?”

And of corse Steve can do that he can do literally anything eddie asks in that tone. And does sweetheart give him a head rush? Yeah. But it’s what happens after that really gets him fucked up.

“Thank you pretty boy, you’re a life saver” Eddie grins, leaning over- careful to avoid getting any oil on Steve- and pressing a kiss to his cheek. And Steve keeps playing those words in his head for weeks. Pretty boy

And then there’s the honey boy incident. Steve can never get over that one. Fucking hell, honey boy. Where does eddie get these ideas from?

And then there had been that time steve was picking up the kids from hellfire, but apparently they’d decided to go play a game of manhunt in the time since eddie cut them loose from their journey and then Steve arrived.

And fuck, no way in hell was Steve going to rush the kids. Not when they were finally relaxed and safe enough to just be kids for once. So while leaving against the Beamer he was greeted by a grinning eddie.

“Hey baby boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He practically fucking purred, coming in close to Steve’s personal space- Eddie’s favorite place to be. And Steve’s favorite place for Eddie to be. Eddie knew damn well Steve was getting the kids today. Like every day he spent chauffeuring the kids or Robin around. And Eddie knew damn well those kids were off in the woods being assholes. And knew damn well he had some free time to flirt with his boyfriend because Steve would never take away these kinds of memories from his kids. So yeah he wanted to lay it on thick.

But baby boy? Steve was going to explode. So simple but so overwhelming.

“You can’t keep doing this to me”. It came out way whinier than Steve had wanted it to.

“Can’t keep doing what?” “Calling me those names! It’s embarassing!”

Eddie just grinned brighter.

“Is it embarrassing? Because it seems like you like it a lot. The way you blush, the way you sit there and babble after trying to get your brain to work again-“

“I do not-“ “oh baby you always do. You love it when I call you pretty names. Just admit it and I’ll never stop”

[choke-me-joey]

Matching Tattoos

Eddie Munson x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, DO NOT GIVE ANYONE OR YOURSELF TATTOOS AT HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO TO A PROFESSIONAL THIS IS FICTION AND A VERY UNHYGIENIC SITUATION FOR NEW TATTOOS, blowjobs, gagging, swallowing, friends to lovers, Eddie is so fucking sweet, porn with some plot followed by fluff.

Part 2

"Isn't she pretty?" Eddie grins, producing the homemade tattoo gun from under his bed. Pretty was a very strong word. More like a clump of sketchy looking metal held together with even sketchier looking screws and rubber bands.

You scoff. "If you think she's pretty I'm seriously starting to question your taste, Munson. Going from Chrissy Cunningham to this? That's quite a decline."

Eddie rolls his eyes.

"You're never going to drop that are you? Chrissy was a 5 minute crush, besides, she's been dating that douchebag Jason Carver for ages now." Eddie waves his hand to signify his distate. "Anyway, nowadays my taste is more...refined, thank you very much. Hence why I am going through the world's longest dry spell at the moment. Now shut up, and get on the bed. We're doing this." He buzzes the tattoo gun for extra effect.

"Yessir." Giving him a cheeky salute, you lie down on Eddie's bed as he messes around with the ink, and something crinkles beneath you. Your brow furrows as you dig underneath you, and you pull out a dog eared magazine. You flick through the pages, your cheeks flushing. "Jesus, Eddie, resorting to porno mags? You really are suffering." You throw the crusty magazine at him, laughing. Eddie quickly kicks it under his bed.

"What? I got needs, Y/N, and its not exactly like there's a line of babes wanting to fuck the town freak."

"Not even with the whole struggling rockstar vibe you've got going on?" You cock your eyebrow, shooting him a smirk.

"Right? I should be drowning in pussy," he grins, and you roll your eyes. "Still want it on your hip, right?"

"As long as it can be covered by a bathing suit so my parents don't murder me, have at it."

Eddie gulps as you unbutton your jeans, shimmying your hips out of them and exposing your simple black panties to him. You then roll your shirt up your stomach and tie it in a knot to prevent it from getting in his way.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen you like this before, he'd seen you in a bathing suit hundreds of times but this....this was different. This was you, half naked, on his bed. You that Eddie had been harbouring a crush on for a good year or so now, hence the dry spell. He didn't want anyone else, he wanted you, his best friend, his partner in crime, his girl. Nobody in this deadbeat town even came close, not anymore.

He was ashamed to even admit that the magazine you'd fished out from his bed was merely a distraction tool. So many nights he'd fucked his fist thinking of you, the way your body glistened in the sun that time when you sunbathed out the back of his trailer in that black bikini, the way your breasts threatened to spill out of the cups and your ass peeked out from the bottoms that left very little to the imagination.

He had to get you out of his head. It was sick, it was wrong, you were his best friend. His beautiful, funny, smart, sexy as hell best friend. If he had to beat off to some random chick in a disgustingly cheap porno magazine just to stop him thinking about you, so be it.

But honestly, when you'd asked him to give you a tattoo on your hip, the magazines just weren't doing it anymore.

Eddie cleared his throat. "You sure about this Y/N?"

"Eddie, shut up and ink me already," you smile, playfully nudging him with your foot. "You drew it up, yeah?"

"One bat comin' at ya," Eddie grins, showing you the little stencil he'd drawn. It was an exact copy of the largest bat out of the swarm on his arm. "You know we can never not be friends after this right? Matching tattoos is a pretty big commitment."

"Until death do us part." You teased.

"I fuckin' do," Eddie kissed your hand, making you snort. Your friendship had always been like this, flirty to the point where people were always wondering if you were together or not. But that's all it ever was, all bark and no bite per say. "Can you move your, uh, your-"

"Panties, Eddie? For someone who used the phrase 'drowning in pussy' earlier I refuse to believe 'panties' gets you all flustered." You tease, pushing down your panties and exposing your skin to him.

Eddie can feel his palms sweating as your panties slip dangerously low, almost exposing that dip between your legs. His mouth is as dry as the fucking desert when he catches a glimpse of your smooth, soft skin. God, he wants to put his mouth there. He wants to put his mouth all over you actually. He coughs once more.

"Right, let's do this, pretty girl." He carefully cleans the area you want tattooed with some antiseptic liquid before laying the stencil down, carefully pulling it away to reveal the outline on your skin. "Looks metal, babe, you ready?"

You nod, clutching his comforter in one hand as he brings the needle to your skin and the buzzing starts. You bite your lip as you feel the needle meet your flesh, a searing burning pain but not too unbearable.

As he drags the needle across your soft skin, Eddie is sweating. He's so close to a part of you he desperately wants to explore, to kiss and lick and make you scream his name until you're sobbing in ecstasy. But he can't. Why would someone like you ever be interested in the town freak? The nerdy metalhead that spends his free time planning extensive D&D campaigns, or playing in shitty dive bars to a crowd of not even 10 people didn't compare to the jocks who went to endless parties, or did something better than spending their spring break in their trailer getting high and watching horror movies.

"Whatcha thinking about, handsome?" Your sweet, sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he looks up at you. God, you look like a fucking angel right now, all draped across his bed with your hair over his pillow. He knows he'll be able to smell the shampoo you use on that later.

Eddie, always one to almost never lose his cool, shoots you a cheeky grin.

"Thinkin' about how I could tattoo my name on you, pretty Make sure everyone knows who's girl you are."

"Everyone already knows, I've only got eyes for you, dungeon master."

Fuck, he wishes you wouldn't call him that. Not like this anyway. Not with this amount clothes on. Or not on.

"Less of the dirty talk, you. I'm trying to concentrate here." He growls, wiping the residual ink off your skin, refilling and continuing his work. You try to ignore the throbbing in your panties and how good his hands feel on your bare skin.

-

35 minutes later, it's Eddie's turn. After cleaning and covering your new artwork, you get yourself dressed (much to Eddie's disappointment) and turn to him with a wicked grin.

"Pants off, Munson."

"Yes, ma'am." Copying your salute from earlier, he unbuckles his handcuff belt and undoes his jeans, shimmying out of them and tossing them somewhere in his room. He also pulls off his Hellfire shirt. You raise an eyebrow. "What? Can't risk anything happening to it, I gotta wait another week before I can get more!"

"Alright, nerd, lie down." You smile, rummaging around in your bag for the little design you'd drawn up for him. You pass the small design of the devil from the Hellfire logo to him and he grins.

"That's metal."

"So metal that nobody is gonna see it unless they're going down on you."

"Yeah, but we'll know it's there. It'll be like our dirty little secret, Y/N."

"Hot," you laugh as Eddie lies down, putting his arms behind his head. He tilts his head down towards his hips.

"Get to work, missy."

You'd been practising on that gross fake skin stuff in preparation for this, but nothing could have prepared you for touching Eddie...here. His skin was so soft and warm, and he smelled so good. A mix of his old cologne he'd gotten from you last Christmas, smoke and a hint of sweat. It was so Eddie, it made your heart flutter and somewhere else flutter too.

You think Eddie takes the needle like a champ, but when you look up at him about 20 minutes later, his eyes are screwed shut.

"Hurt that much?" You grin and he shakes his head, eyes still closed.

"Nah, babe, honestly, I'm...fine." He hesitates. You stop for a second, tilting your head to the side in question. You go to wipe off some of the excess ink and your arm brushes over his boxers accidentally.

Oh.

"Eddie, are you-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, don't talk about it." Eddie chokes out, his cheeks flushing. His loose plaid boxers had done a good job of hiding his semi, but when you'd brushed against it, it was game over.

Eddie was hard.

"I-is this like a normal reaction to getting tattooed, or...?" You stutter, your mouth feeling dryer than fucking Gandhi's flip flop.

Eddie sighs, throwing an arm over his face.

"No, it's a normal reaction to a very, very pretty girl hovering near my dick, babe." He says in a small voice. Your cheeks flush as you place the tattoo gun down on his bedside table.

"O-oh. Well, do you want me t-to stop? Or I could help with...I could help you with that?"

Eddie groans behind his arm.

"Babe, don't tease me like that, that's just cruel. 'Sides, wouldn't you feel...weird jerking me off?"

Your mind had not gone to jerking him off. In fact, it had gone a step further.

"Oh, I-I wasn't...I was gonna, um-"

"Blow me?!" Eddie throws his arm off of his face and stares at you, and you pretend you don't notice his cock jumping in his boxers. "You, my super hot best friend Y/N, are seriously offering to suck my dick right now?!"

"I-I’m sorry-"

"Sorry?! What the fuck are you sorry for?! Making all my wet dreams come true?!"

You giggle. "Eddie, shut up."

"No, I'm serious, Y/N, you've been in here-" he sits up and taps the side of his head "-doing some nasty shit for so fucking long. Why do you think I'm jacking off to shitty porno mags instead of chasing pussy?"

You're silent, a slow smile spreading across your face as your hand creeps over his crotch, gently palming at his cock which jumps in your hand.

"Well, lucky for you, dungeon master, you've also been the star of my wet dreams."

Eddie falls back onto his pillows with a groan. "Fuck, I can't believe this is actually fucking happening."

"Tell me what you want to do to me, Eds." Your voice is low and sultry as you give him a squeeze. He looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. You tug at his boxers, giving him a questioning look. He grabs your wrist.

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? Cos if it's a choice between getting off, or keeping you as my best friend, I'd rather keep you babe. Blue balls and all."

You smile softly; Eddie was too sweet for his own good. It was one of the things you loved most about him.

"What about if you get to get off and still keep me?" You say, pushing his hand away and slowly pulling his boxers down. His cock springs out, slapping against his lower stomach. He was long and thick, uncut with an upwards curve that the very sighmade your pussy clench. You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Holy shit, Eds."

"Good 'holy shit', or bad 'holy shit'?" Eddie's cheeks are flushed as he smirks.

"You know the answer to that." You wrap your hand around his cock, making him hiss as you stroke the silky skin. You pull the foreskin down to expose his angry looking, reddish purple mushroom head, and a drop of precum blurts out. You continue to stroke him, eyes fixed on his face.

"Fuck, stop looking at me like that," Eddie groans, his cock twitching in your hand. "'S too much."

"Like what?" You smirk, straddling his thighs. He can't answer you, any sort of answer immediately wiped from his brain as you lower your mouth to the head of his cock and lick, tasting him for the first time. His hips buck, forcing more of his cock into your mouth, making you gag out of surprise.

"Shit, sorry, sorry," Eddie gasps. "Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, don't be surprised if I come like, super quick, okay? Been thinking about this for so fucking long you have no idea. And you look....God, you looking so fucking beautiful right now."

You shoot him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cock before taking him into your mouth properly, swallowing as much of him down as you can.

Eddie's hand comes to your hair, gently stroking it as you bob your head up and down. The flavour of him blooms over your tongue and makes you hum in appreciation.

"Fuck, babe, your mouth...shit, it's so fucking good, taking my cock so well..."

You pull up and suckle the head, flicking your tongue over the slit. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You smirk, pulling back and pursing your lips, allowing a glob of spit to fall from your mouth onto the head, dribbling down the shaft. Eddie falls back onto the pillows. "That's it, you've killed me, you're blowing a dead man, baby."

"A dead man who's gonna come in my mouth, right?" You mumble, jerking him quickly, your spit allowing your hand to slide over his shaft with ease. Eddie keens, his teeth gritted.

"You can't say shit like that, angel, I'm about ready to blow as it is."

"Do it, I want it." You reply, taking his cock into the warmth of your mouth once more. You allow him to fuck your face, both hands now resting on the back of your head as you swallowed around him.

"Shit, fuck, oh my fucking god, baby, Y/N, I'm gonna come, fuck I'm gonna come so fucking hard in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah? God, you're such a good girl, so good f'me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck!"

Eddie comes with a broken moan, his hips thrusting upwards and his hands holding you in place as his cock pumps rope after rope of cum down your throat. You moan, relishing the taste of him, which makes Eddie shudder at the overstimulation. You swallow everything he gives you. "Fuck, sweetheart, can you show me?"

You begrudgingly take your mouth off of his cock and open your mouth, tilting your head back slightly and sticking your tongue out to show him that you had indeed swallowed his cum. "Holy shit. I'm gonna get hard again." He groans, his chest heaving and his cock twitching slightly. You giggle and place a kiss to it, and Eddie grabs you, pulling you on top of him, careful to avoid the new ink. "I can kiss you, right?"

"I think we're past that, Eddie" You smile and squeak in surprise as he pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a hasty kiss. It's a chaste kiss, experimental and you break away briefly. His eyes lock with yours, as if he was trying to search them to see if this was okay. "It's okay, Eds" you whisper, nodding gently. His eyes dart to your mouth and back up to your eyes.

"Do I get to keep you?" He whispers, his fingers softly stroking your cheek. You brush your nose against his.

"You get to keep me."

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)

Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.

"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.

Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.

"Boy?"

"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."

The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.

"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"

The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."

The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.

"Annie," answered the man.

"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."

Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"

Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."

Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.

There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.

Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.

"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.

This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.

As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"

"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.

"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.

"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.

The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"

Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.

"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.

With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.

"-distortions mean what I think it-"

"-not fair!"

"-time is breaking-"

"-only leave his body once he's dead."

Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.

All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"

She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.

"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"

"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.

"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.

"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.

"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."

[egcdeath]

the old college try

summary: you reconnect with an unexpected guest at the creator of your scholarship’s dinner party.

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: stanford era, sassy reader, situationship, a touch of family drama, mentions of putting an etsy love spell on someone, arguing, emotional immaturity, maybe not the best decisions from our lovely characters, kindaaaa open ending

word count: 4.6k

author’s note: i am absolutely addicted to all things ex!patrick. i hope you enjoy reading this!

“This is my son, Patrick.”

Your stomach dropped the second the woman’s son turned around, familiar light eyes and scruffy appearance immediately taking you back to your tumultuous third semester of college. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—the extended periods without contact followed by a surprise appearance at your dorm room, or the drawn out arguments on the phone that left every passerby giving you—the angry woman on the phone in her pajamas on the sidewalk—a strange look, and even the few good times you had with him. 

You blinked once to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, then felt an onslaught of realization hit you at once. Despite your several month on-and-off situationship with Patrick, you never learned much identifying information about him, including his last name. In fact, that had been something you’d argued about multiple times. The two of you barely knew each other, save for each others’ bodies, which you unfortunately both knew very well.

Had you known that Patrick was the son of Mrs. Zweig, donor to your scholarship, you wouldn’t have accepted the invite to this family event. 

Mrs. Zweig seemed to recognize the shock and confusion on both of your faces. While you didn’t think your mouth was agape, there was certainly a high chance that it was. “You two already know each other?” she asked, looking amused. 

“No,” you quickly replied.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, his words coming out at the same time as yours. 

“Yes,” you tried again, trying to get your story straight. 

“No,” he said this time, your voices overlapping once more. 

She glanced between the two of you skeptically before humming aloud. “Hmm. Well, I’ll let you two chat and connect, or reconnect, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She was off without much more fanfare, leaving you very flustered in her wake. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Patrick asked you, getting right in your face like he always did when the two of you argued. It was almost slightly nostalgia-inducing. 

“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, given that he had been introduced as the son of your beneficiary. Of course he would be at a family function. This was his family, after all. But you were flustered, as anyone else in your shoes would be, and words were currently failing you. 

“Zweig doesn’t ring a bell?” he asked. When you responded with a wordless shake of your head, he chuckled in annoyance and disbelief. It all felt very familiar. “What was it that you always used to say to me? ‘You don’t even know what my middle name is?’”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, not knowing where the discussion was going, but not liking it regardless. 

In response to your non-verbal response, he leaned in close to your ear, clearly not trying to let on to the rest of the attendees the level of drama that was currently occurring in their midst. 

“You hypocrite.”

The words he spat were simple, but effective—leaving you simultaneously filled with rage and oddly, a little aroused.

He walked off after that, using self restraint that you weren’t actually sure that he had. Knowing Patrick, he would be back and spewing vitriol in your face or in your ear whenever he next had the opportunity. 

You were taking a very different approach to the situation. Now that you knew Patrick was at the event, you were determined to do everything humanly possible to avoid bumping into him. 

You talked to any and everyone you could find, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel Patrick’s eyes searing into you, no matter what part of the room you were in. He was clearly waiting for the moment he could pounce on you once again, evidenced by the way he seemed to start going on the move whenever you stopped talking to someone. 

Somehow, you were still one step quicker than him, quickly maneuvering yourself into new conversations or inserting yourself into the conversations of others. 

You weren’t sure what Patrick so badly wanted to tell you anyway. Maybe taunt you about some new conquest he was with, or to beg you to come home with him after dinner. Unfortunately, the latter proposition didn’t sound all that bad. 

Other than your issue of avoiding conversation with Patrick, you were also facing another challenge: People trying to introduce the two of you to each other. You weren’t sure what it was that made people think that the two of you needed to meet so badly—from Patrick’s mom, who had been insisting for weeks that you meet her son, to a random cousin who happened to think that you’d like each other. You wished you could tell them that you’d already met each other, and that you’d magnificently crashed and burned. 

Briefly wanting to get away from the repetitive small talk and questions about if you’ve met the person you were in a messy situationship with, you found your way to a bathroom—but not without being followed in. 

“What the fuck?” you said immediately as the door behind you shut. 

“We need to talk,” Patrick said plainly, locking the door behind him. 

“Unlock that,” you demanded, not because you were all that afraid of your safety, but because you wanted a quick exit plan if he started to really piss you off. 

“Fine,” he conceded, unlocking the door. “But don’t act weird if someone walks in on us.”

“Walks in on us?” you laughed, parroting his words. “There won’t be anything to walk in on. I mean, you can’t seriously think I’m going to fuck you at a family dinner.”

You were about 95% sure of your words, but that other 5% was thinking about the logistics of getting your tight dress off in that small bathroom.

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you,” he explained.

“Then what are you here for?” you asked, confused about what else he could possibly want from you. 

“We need to get our story straight. I can’t have a repeat of that conversation with my mom.”

“Why does it matter? I’ll just stay away from you for the rest of the night. I’ll expect you to do the same, then there won’t be any issues.”

“That won’t work. Have you seen the seating chart for tonight?”

“Seating chart?” you scoffed. It seemed ridiculous, but it made sense. For people rich enough to create and fund scholarships, it made sense that a large dinner for friends and family members would come equipped with a seating chart. Besides, you were sure there were people with dietary restrictions in your midst. “How would I have known there was a seating chart, let alone look at it ahead of time?”

“Well, a little spoiler: you and I are sitting next to each other.”

“What the hell? Who did that?” 

“I don’t know! Stop looking at me like this is my fault.” Now that he mentioned it, you were currently glaring at Patrick. “It must’ve been my mom. I swear she’s been telling everyone that you and I need to get together. Everyone’s been telling me all night that we need to meet.”

“God, I thought it was just me. Is this a family of matchmakers or something? Or are they trying to help you out with your fear of commitment?”

“I don’t have- can you just focus instead of trying to be funny? We’re gonna be next to each other all night and people are going to be asking us questions. So what are we going to tell them?”

“You don’t want to tell them about you leading me on for months?” you asked innocently, not trying very hard to hide the contempt behind your words. 

“No, you’re right,” Patrick agreed with you, fake thoughtfulness in his tone. “Now that I think about it, maybe we should tell them about the love spell you paid some Etsy witch to put on me.”

You instantly felt your cheeks warm at the mention of such an embarrassing action.

“That was a joke and you know it.” It wasn’t a joke. It was a dark period of time for you. “So what do you suggest we tell them?”

“That we’re just friends,” he said simply. 

“They aren’t gonna be suspicious that you’ve never brought me up before?” you probed, part of you wondering the logic behind his decision, and the other part of you wondering if he’d ever brought you, his situationship, up to his friends or family. 

“Doubt it,” he dismissed with ease.

You were only a little disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So what’s the story?”

“That we met when I was visiting Stanford.”

“That’s true, though.”

“Just leave it at that. We met once or twice through mutual friends,” he directed. 

“Okay,” you shrugged. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just that you look really hot tonight,” he said, biting his lip and unabashedly checking you out. 

“Okay. Goodbye,” you didn’t bother humoring him, though his words did satisfy you. You left the bathroom and didn’t spare a glance back, even as you heard him leave a few minutes later. 

After the torture that was socializing with people whose sole purpose seemed to be setting you up with your ex fling, you’d all been summoned to sit down for dinner. Just as Patrick warned you, you sat down at a seat that was directly next to him. You wished you could switch seats with someone else, putting their nameplate next to him and hoping that no one would be any wiser, but you couldn’t see a world where that would work out for you.

Eventually, Patrick sat down next to you, clearly trying his best not to look at you too closely, lest someone catch on to the fact that you two knew each other. 

You did your best to be a fly on the wall in the conversation that the people around you were having. You poked around at your salad and wondered if you focused hard enough on the leaves, if you’d be able to disappear. 

“So, have you two had the chance to meet?” someone asked from across the table, directing the question to you and Patrick. Clearly, your plan of disappearing hadn’t worked out after all.

“Yeah! We actually know each other already,” you explained, directing a friendly smile towards whatever cousin or family friend you were speaking to. Clearly, Patrick didn’t trust your answering abilities, as he butt into the conversation before you could finish speaking.

“We have some mutual friends, so we’ve crossed paths once or twice,” Patrick clarified, attempting to give more context to your relationship. Technically, it was true. While you weren’t necessarily friends with the man who inadvertently set you up, you’d been invited to a party being hosted by some tennis player in your accounting class who played with Patrick at some point, and met at that very event. 

Despite the many partygoers, Patrick seemed instantly drawn to you, or at least, was instantly attracted to you, based on the way that he openly checked you out as he approached you. Normally, that kind of thing would make you roll your eyes and walk away, but you’d been intrigued by his looks and his shameless demeanor. If only you could go back in time to tell yourself to roll your eyes and walk away. 

“But we don’t know each other very well,” you added. That, you firmly believed was true. Patrick may have known what position made you cum quickest, but he didn’t know a thing that actually mattered about you. He probably couldn’t even tell you what your major was. 

“What a coincidence you ended up here, then,” the other man, whose name you couldn’t remember, commented. “Did Patrick help you get the scholarship?”

“What?” you tried not to sound too offended, though you very much were. You tried to remind yourself that saying the wrong thing could cost you your entire higher education, and ended up laughing off the very rude allegation. “It’s really just a funny coincidence.”

To your surprise, Patrick jumped to your defense. “Unlike you and your seat on the board, there’s no nepotism here. We met long after she already got the scholarship, which she earned. She’s one of the most dedicated students I know.”

His words surprised you. The argumentative ones calling out his relative, not so much, but you were a little impressed by the way that he stood firm on the fact that you were a good student. Sure, he witnessed you studying for midterms in your dorm room every now and then—even if at the time he’d been trying to distract you from your work to get some attention—and now that you were thinking about it, he did bring you flowers after he found out you’d made it onto the Dean’s List. 

Maybe Patrick hadn’t been all that bad of a… you didn’t even know what, after all. But that was certainly a thought you were only entertaining due to his sweet behavior he was currently exhibiting. The fact that you were a whole year out from your entanglement and still couldn’t define what the hell happened between the two of you was a testament to how much of a mess your relationship was. 

“Not that you know too many students,” his relative laughed in that stuck-up rich person's laugh they all seemed to have. You tried to ignore how you were already getting caught in family politics, getting your academic ability called into question in the crossfire of an easy insult Patrick dealt to his family member. “Pat’s too busy going around the world hitting balls. How’s that going, by the way?”

From what you’d observed in your own efforts to see what he was up to, they weren’t going great. Notably, after you’d cut things off with him, his performance decreased significantly. 

“It’s going well,” Patrick said with false confidence that you saw right through. If you could see right through it, you were sure that his family members were able to do the same. A brief glance at the woman in front of you who was clearly attempting to suppress a laugh confirmed this for you immediately. 

It was almost a little pathetic to see, watching Patrick lie so obviously to an audience that couldn’t even pretend to believe him. Seeing how he stepped in to help you out, it was only fair that you did the same for him. Even if he hadn’t done so, you were starting to become embarrassed for him.

“Have you been to any of his matches recently?” you asked, interrupting their mockery of Patrick. “He did a really great job at the French Open. I mean, even making it to the French Open is really impressive.”

Not that you’d been at any of the matches, but you occasionally Googled his name to see what he was up to. Even more occasionally, you turned on ESPN to see if you could catch any footage of him playing. But it wasn’t like you even really cared. 

Okay. You cared a little bit. 

Most of the time, you were rooting for him to fail, as is the right of all bitter exes. But now was not the time for you to share that information. Not when Patrick was looking at you like you were crazy, and his family members were eyeing you suspiciously. 

That was when you remembered that the two of you weren’t supposed to know each other very well. You instantly tried your best to cover up your tracks. “But I don’t know a lot about tennis, that’s just what our friend told me.” Considering that you hadn’t spoken to Art since Accounting 223 ended, he did not actually share this information with you.

“Huh. Do you guys talk about Patrick a lot?” you were trying your best not to fold under the skeptical look she was giving you. 

“Only when he’s doing something cool. Which isn’t very often,” it was a good save, which left the rest of the table laughing at your little dig at Patrick. You were starting to understand his family dynamic a little more, and it didn’t exactly seem like a pleasant one. 

You could practically feel his betrayed gaze searing into you, but you did your best to ignore it. You were already feeling guilt gnaw into you about hanging him back out to dry with a family who already liked to pick on him. 

“You know, that actually reminds me. You said you don’t know much about tennis, but I remember seeing you play a little bit. How’s that going?” Patrick asked you, his question obviously trying to reveal something embarrassing about you. You instantly felt the blood drain from your face at the mention of your attempt to play the sport.

Your brief stint with tennis was mainly born out of your desire to see Patrick more often. After your run-in at his friend’s party, you were determined to put yourself in the type of situations that would allow you to ‘accidentally’ run into Patrick. 

You started off simple, going to the tennis matches for Stanford’s men’s team, hoping that Patrick would eventually show up in the stands to support his friend. Despite your incessant searching of the stands, you were never able to find Patrick amongst the crowd of students, fans, and supportive family members. 

Never one to give up easily, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Maybe if you were a little sportier, Patrick would take an interest in you, reaching out to you so you wouldn’t ever have to make the first move. You spent the evening perusing sporting goods stores with your roommate, putting cute tennis outfits and equipment that you couldn’t really afford on a credit card. 

The next morning, the two of you got up bright and early to hit the tennis courts before anyone else arrived. The game seemed simple enough, but proved to be far more difficult than either of you anticipated. After half an hour of attempting to play with frankly awful technique, you decided to call it quits and do a photoshoot instead. 

Feeling satisfied with pictures that featured your best angles and the slightest hint of breeze blowing up your skirt, you decided to post your photos on social media with a caption about how much you loved tennis. That was sure to get Patrick’s attention.

Just as you’d suspected, not long after you posted, you received a message from Patrick, casually asking about how things were going with you. Your faux interest in tennis had been promptly abandoned. 

Surprised at the fact that Patrick was bringing up your very blatant bait of him, you were caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I was never really super into it,” you attempted to dismiss.

“That’s news to me,” he chuckled. “I swear, you told me about how you were super into tennis. Was that just a phase, or…?”

He eyed you mischievously, clearly challenging you to a match of whatever mind game it was that he wanted to play with you. Unluckily for him, you were in the mood to play–and win.

“Something like that. I guess I just figured out that tennis really wasn’t for me. But you know, college is a time to try out new things. See what you like, what you don’t like. And man, I really didn’t like tennis.”

Obviously, you weren’t talking just about tennis. You hoped that Patrick was able to catch onto the not-so-subtle subtext. 

“I don’t know, I thought you liked tennis a lot. Thought it was good for you,” Patrick commented casually, going back to his food before looking back at you.

“It was surprisingly pretty toxic,” you replied easily.

“Are you sure you didn’t share a part in that toxicity? With a sport like tennis, you really get out what you put in.”

“Sure, but I didn’t put in nearly as much toxicity as I was getting from it.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Patrick murmured. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means that you think you’re so guiltless, but you played a bigger role in… tennis not working out than you’re acting like you did.”

“Please, enlighten me on how I could’ve made tennis work out better for me.”

“I just think maybe you’re being a little too hard on tennis in comparison to what really happened.”

“Just because you have a nice racket and a little more experience than me doesn’t mean you’re an expert on how bad things were for me. Seriously, Patrick. You actually don’t have a clue about what I was going through.”

“Are you guys still talking about tennis?” someone asked with a forced laugh, breaking the thick tension at the table. There was a stiff, awkward chuckle from your fellow dinner companions. It was almost as if you’d forgotten that you were at his family’s dinner, bitterly arguing with Patrick in loosely coded language. You should have the shame to feel embarrassed, but you mostly felt agitated with Patrick. 

“Obviously,” Patrick replied. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously,” they said stiffly. “So like, are you sure you two don’t know each other that well?”

“We really don’t,” you quickly replied.

“Why would we lie about that?” Patrick said, your voices overlapping.

As if arguing about something that was very obviously a metaphor for your relationship wasn’t suspicious enough, this reaction certainly didn’t help your case. It was ridiculous to attempt to keep up this façade when it was becoming more and more clear to anyone at the table with eyes to see and ears to hear that you two were more than casual, mutual friends.

“Actually, we did lie. We were friends for a little while,” you confessed.

“Friends?” Patrick parroted with a scoff. He looked at you with disbelief before shaking his head. “Excuse me,” he announced before standing up and walking off from the table.

The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, which you took as your cue to follow Patrick to wherever he was sulking off to. “Sorry. Excuse me.”

The two of you said nothing as you followed Patrick out to his back patio. The fresh, cold air felt nice after a suffocating, stressful evening. As Patrick sat down on a piece of comfortable furniture, you wordlessly sat across from him.

“Just go. Back inside, back home, I don’t give a shit. I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Clearly you do,” you replied, watching him dig in his pocket for a cigarette to no avail. He finally found a loose cigarette and brought it to his lips, ignoring you as he lit it up. 

“Don’t blow it in my face,” you warned him, though you wouldn’t mind taking a drag or two from it. 

“I won’t,” he replied, words muffled around the cigarette at his lips. 

The two of you sat in silence before he spoke once more. “Do you seriously feel like we were just friends?”

“Jesus,” you laughed at the question, unbelieving that Patrick would think all of your desperate acts to try to get him to commit to you could be interpreted as anything but romantic. “Of course we weren’t just friends. But you try describing what we had to someone who wasn’t a witness to the train wreck that was our relationship.”

“We were…” he trailed off as he thought about how to describe your relationship. “Friends with benefits?”

“Sure,” you replied, though you obviously disagreed with him. “You know, this is exactly why things didn’t work out. I wanted to be with you so badly and you refused to acknowledge that we had a connection any deeper than physical until it was convenient for you.”

“Did you expect me to spell out how I felt about you when I was showing you how I felt?” he asked as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

“Actually, yes. Clearly we were not on the same page about how we felt if you thought that you were being so obvious while I was over-analyzing every single word you’d ever said to me to try to figure out how you felt about me.”

“Are you serious? You were the one who was impossible to understand. One day you wanted me to take you out on a date and hold you in your little twin sized bed afterward, and the next you didn’t want to speak to me. How was I supposed to interpret that?”

“Patrick, you were doing the same thing to me! I was just so mad at you. Like, constantly. Even though I had feelings for you. My friends were always telling me I’m an idiot for letting you treat me that way, so obviously I tried to start pushing you away. But even with everything, I still really liked you, so I couldn’t fully stay away from you,” you explained, hoping that your disjointed words would make sense to him. 

It truly was a very complicated situation. Part of you wondered if you had communicated this earlier, if things might have ended differently for you. 

Patrick seemed to be thinking deeply about your words before he spoke again. “Do you ever still think about me?”

You had two options for approaching his question. You could lie, like you hadn’t made it abundantly clear earlier that you still, at the very least, pay attention to his tennis career, or you could tell the truth and risk having your feelings hurt again. 

“Sometimes,” you confessed, going with the latter. “I’m mostly still really annoyed with the way you treated me, and the fact that I let you treat me that way. But sometimes I miss you, anyway.”

“Then let’s do things differently this time,” he proposed as if it was the best and brightest idea he’d ever had. “I miss you, too. It shouldn’t have taken us breaking up for me to realize how much I need you in my life, but it did.”

“What are you saying, Patrick?” you asked, trying to make sure that you fully understood his proposition. Was he trying to get you back?

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he spelled out for you. “I want to treat you better than I ever did before. I’ve thought about everything that went down between us, and I think that we can make it work this time if we just try to be honest with each other. What do you think?”

You were shocked at the offer. If someone had told you going into this dinner that you would end it with your former situationship asking you to be with him, you would’ve laughed in their face. Yet, his proposition, and the fact that you wanted to say yes, didn’t exactly feel like a laughing matter.

You paused as you stopped to consider your options. Your gut instinct was to say yes—you’d wanted him for so long, and he clearly wasn’t over you. You obviously had some things you needed to work through before you really made this relationship work, but the feelings were there. The more logical part of your brain was telling you to say no—Patrick had hurt you so many times before, that there was no telling if he would hurt you again. 

“Sure. Let’s try it,” you said, ignoring all of the logic in your head and fully following where the passion in your heart wanted to take you. 

You couldn’t be sure if this would end in another heartbreak for you, but you weren’t so sure that you cared either.